Chapter 234: Sam’s Move

Chapter 234: Chapter 234: Sam’s Move

Finn cleared his throat, pushing past the lump in his own chest. "I understand, Dad. I do. But... why give Jake Rivers ten percent? Even with everything happening with Sam, why give up that much power without a war?"

Richard took a deep breath, pulling himself back together. The vulnerability in his face slowly receded, replaced once more by the cold, steel mask of a seasoned patriarch.

"You think I yielded those shares out of fear of a twenty-three-year-old upstart?" Richard asked softly.

Finn blinked. "Didn’t you? Meridian had our steel supply locked down—"

"Meridian was a temporary leverage play," Richard cut in cleanly. "An annoyance. I gave up that ten percent because while everyone in that boardroom was staring at Jake Rivers, they failed to see the true predator waiting in the shadows."

Finn straightened up, his brow furrowing. "What predator?"

"The Sheele Group," Richard revealed, his tone dropping into a harsh, dangerous whisper.

Finn’s eyes widened. "Sheele Group? They’ve been completely dormant for months."

"They were dormant because they were quietly preparing to move against our land bank," Richard explained, leaning over his desk, his eyes burning with intense strategic focus. "I caught wind of their capital movement three weeks ago. If we had entered a drawn-out, bloody war with Jake Rivers over steel allocations, Sheele would have struck us from behind, bought up our panicked retail stock, and stripped Newman Enterprise to the bone."

Finn stood frozen as the terrifying scope of the battlefield clicked into place.

"So when Sam pulled his reckless stunt against Rivers’ family..." Finn whispered, awe creeping into his voice.

"When Sam created that disaster," Richard continued, "I didn’t just see a crisis—I saw an emergency door. I brought Golden Investments into our capital structure as an iron shield. Jake Rivers holds fifteen percent of our voting power now. Do you think a ruthless predator like Rivers will stand by and watch Sheele Group devalue his brand-new acquisition? Absolutely not. I invited a monster into our boardroom to keep the devil at our gates."

Finn stared at his father in absolute amazement. The subtle fear that Richard Newman had lost his edge, that he was aging out and growing weak, vanished completely. His father hadn’t surrendered under pressure; he had executed a brutal, multi-layered strategic pivot, leveraging his own son’s failure to construct an impenetrable defense against a lethal threat nobody else had even spotted.

"So Rivers thinks he forced your hand," Finn murmured.

"Rivers took his pound of flesh, and he believes he backed me into a corner," Richard said, picking up his scotch once more and taking a deliberate sip. "Let him believe it. A monster sitting at our boardroom table is far better than a devil tearing down our walls."

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The rain had turned into a relentless, low-frequency hum against the soundproofed floor-to-ceiling windows of Sam Newman’s private penthouse in the uptown district.

Two stories above the city streets, the multi-million-dollar duplex was an opulent prison.

Following the disastrous incident in the parking garage, Richard had taken absolute control of the fallout. He had stripped Sam of his executive credentials, confiscated his passports, and placed him under strict internal house arrest inside his own apartment. Private security guards—hired personally by Richard—stood stationed at the lobby elevators and stairwells twenty-four hours a day. Sam was forbidden from stepping foot outside his front door without his father’s explicit, permission.

Sam stood at the marble island of his kitchen, pouring a generous splash of twenty-year-old single malt scotch into a crystal tumbler. His hair was slightly disheveled, his designer shirt unbuttoned at the collar, and his eyes bloodshot from a mix of insomnia, alcohol, and explosive rage.

On the massive wall-mounted screen in his living room, a financial news ticker scrolled continuously along the bottom of the broadcast:

[...NEWMAN ENTERPRISE GROUP (NEG) HAS A NEW INVESTIGATOR... GOLDEN INVESTMENTS CONFIRMS 15% VOTING SHARE ACQUISITION...]

Sam hurled his tumbler across the room. The crystal shattered against the concrete pillar, leaving a dark, amber stain that dripped slowly onto the hardwood floor.

"Fifteen percent!" Sam roared to the empty room, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. "Fifteen bloody percent!"

He grabbed his smartphone from the counter, tapping the screen aggressively. For the past four hours, his calls to his father’s direct line had gone straight to voicemail. Finn had blocked his primary number entirely, and Ray had sent a single, brutal text message two hours ago before turning off his phone:

’You cost me my equity, you complete idiot. Don’t call me again until you can pay me back.’

Sam ran both hands through his hair, pacing the length of his open-plan living room. The shame of being benched while the family business was being carved up was eating him alive. And he was locked in his own home while a twenty-three-year-old outsider dictated terms in his father’s boardroom.

The digital chime of his private elevator startled him.

Sam snapped his head toward the foyer as the doors slid open. A tall, impeccably groomed man in a charcoal double-breasted suit stepped out, carrying a slim, leather document case.

It was Julian Croft—a partner at Croft & Mercer, one of the city’s most ruthless shadow corporate defense firms, and Sam’s personal legal advisor. As Sam’s private attorney, Julian was one of the few people Richard’s security detail was authorized to let pass.

"You’re late," Sam barked, striding over to the bar to pour himself another drink directly from the bottle.

"Your father’s security team at the lobby desk took twenty minutes to verify my clearance," Julian replied smoothly, unbuttoning his jacket as he walked into the living room. He glanced at the shattered glass on the floor, his expression completely unbothered. "I see you’re following the news updates."

"My father gave him ten percent!" Sam snarled, taking a heavy pull from his glass. "Ten percent on top of the five he already bought! He let Jake Rivers walk into our executive assembly room and strip us naked!"

"Your father was backed into a corner, Sam," Julian said calmly, setting his case on the glass coffee table. "Meridian Group had a vice-grip on your steel supply. Another forty-eight hours of halted production, and your manufacturing and construction subsidiaries would have faced breach-of-contract penalties running into the hundreds of millions. Richard did what he had to do to preserve the family’s controlling stake."

"And what about me?!" Sam shouted, slamming the bottle onto the marble counter. "I’m locked in here like a rabid dog while Ray and Finn run around playing executives! My father won’t even answer my phone calls!"

"Because your father needs you out of sight," Julian said sharply, his tone dropping into professional coldness. "Every time your name is whispered in executive circles right now, it weakens Richard’s position on the board. Troy is already using your confinement as ammunition to claim Richard’s household is out of control and incapable of managing company assets."

Sam’s eyes narrowed into slits. "Uncle Troy."

"Precisely," Julian said, opening his document case and pulling out a tablet along with a thin red folder. "Which brings me to the reason I came here personally instead of using an encrypted line."

Julian tapped the screen, turning the tablet toward Sam.

"Troy lost his no-confidence motion this afternoon because your father pulled three percent out of Vanguard Harbor Holdings and coerced Ray into surrendering his trust stake," Julian explained. "Troy is cornered, furious, and desperate. About an hour ago, my associates picked up an encrypted ping from Troy’s personal legal team."

Sam stepped closer, staring at the screen. "What kind of ping?"

"Troy is reaching out to secondary offshore liquidity funds," Julian said low. "He’s trying to build a secret war chest to buy out smaller institutional shareholders in Newman Enterprise before the Q3 general meeting. He wants to force a hostile restructuring and strip Richard of the Chairmanship."

A dark, bitter smile slowly spread across Sam’s face. "The greedy old bastard is going for broke."

"Yes," Julian agreed. "Which creates a very unique opportunity for you."

Sam looked up, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of malice and desperation. "Go on."

"Your father thinks you’re sidelined," Julian murmured, leaning in slightly. "The board thinks you’re a liability. But if Troy successfully gathers enough proxy votes to threaten your father again, Richard will be vulnerable. If you—and you alone—deliver the leverage that destroys Troy’s plot before he can execute it, your father will have no choice but to lift this house arrest and restore your executive standing."

"Troy won’t talk to me," Sam said, pacing again. "He knows I’m loyal to Dad, even if Dad is treating me like garbage right now."

"Troy won’t talk to you directly," Julian corrected. "But Troy’s financial proxy—a secondary fund registered in the Caymans—is looking for capital. Capital that you happen to control through your private offshore investment vehicle, Apex Heritage."

Sam froze, processing the suggestion. "You want me to secretly fund Troy’s buyout of our own company’s shares?"

"I want you to ’pretend’ to fund it," Julian said with a cold smirk. "Through Apex Heritage, you inject liquidity into Troy’s proxy fund under a concealed shell. Once Troy uses that capital to commit to purchasing the shareholder blocks, you pull the trigger, expose his illegal insider collusion to the board, and hand your father Troy’s head on a spike."

Sam stood silent for a long moment, the hum of the rain filling the room. The sheer risk of the move set his pulse racing. If Richard discovered Sam was funneling money into Troy’s proxy—even as a sting operation—he might disown him permanently. But if it worked, he would single-handedly destroy his father’s greatest rival and prove his absolute worth to the family business.

"And what about Jake Rivers?" Sam asked, his teeth gritting at the name. "He still holds fifteen percent. He still holds my family by the throat."

Julian closed his folder with a quiet, decisive thud. "One fight at a time, Sam. You can’t take on a predator like Jake Rivers while sitting in this apartment under your father’s guard. First, you break out of this cage and get your seat back at the table. Then, you use the full weight of Newman Enterprise to crush him."

Sam stared out at the dark city skyline outside his window. The humiliation, the rage, and the desperate hunger to reclaim his status coalesced into a sharp, singular focus.

He reached down, picked up his pen from the counter, and looked Julian straight in the eye.

"Set up the shell accounts," Sam commanded, his voice dark and unwavering. "Let’s give my uncle all the rope he needs to hang himself."

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